Caged Animals
by TheMarginalthinker
Summary: For most, a wild animal is a wild animal; some can be tamed, some can't. The ones that are tame, life with owners is good. For those that are not tame...life is simply a battle with death and their captors. But what goes on in the minds of feral beings, who stare at us through bars of steel? Can the nature of the beast truly be settled, or are some animals meant to be caged?
1. Chapter 1

Follow the butterflies. Hadn't a book once told hime that? No, wait, that wasn't right. It hadn't been a book, and it had told him to not follow the little blips for flickering color, dancing before his toddler eyes. It had been one of the older ghosts that visited him in his woods that told him to keep away from the tiny licks of flamelike wings, shimering in the toxic green of a ghost-zone sunset. They were dangerous. They were bad. They would take you and hypnotize you, and lead you away from your Haunt to a place no ghost had ever come back from. The little Phantom was mesmerised.

The Phantom babe wanted to know more about them. His Elders seemed to understand this, but still didn't tell him much, exept to stay away from the things if he ever came accross them one day, and to fly as far away as possible if they came to him. But now they were here, and he hadn't run off like the others told him. He didn't want to. Why should he? The little glowing insects weren't harming, or even bothering him. In fact, it looked as if they were moving off. No! Wait! He called out to them softly in the voice of one so small. He didn't want them to go, now that they were here. The butterflies were nice he had decided, and he wanted to follow them.

The tiny phantom of the boy ran off into his spectral woods, the trees towering over him like dark centinals on either side to the path, guarding both the forrest and the child that played in it. Oh, those butterflies are awful fast the little boy thought, but I bet I'm faster. He didn't pay mind to the fact that he was almost out of the thick fairytail-like forrest, nor did he acknowlage the shadows of nothing more then those cast by a soft sunset, turning sharper, darker, a veil of malignance seeping from the very hearts of them.

The boy still noticed naught but the flitting flock of spectre anthropods which he chased with the abandon the kind of which only a child can posses. Now, all that warnings his grown-up friends had issued had flown away, swept up in the majesty of curiosity and the fulfilment of.

Dark shapes curled towards the oblivious form of the prancing phantom, licking at the bottoms of the pure white boots, brushing tendrils of softer then silk driven snow hair.

The lure was being reeled in, and the quarry was stupid enough to persue it.

The wooded hills and vales behind them, the boy and the shadows ow stood out on a large flat peice of enpty rock, desolate and devoide of even ghostly 'life', floating amilessly in the acidic and subdued greens of the Zone. A faulter in his step was all it took for the little phantom to pause in his game, a tiny foot catching on a protruding stone. Opon reflex, the vibrant green eyes glanced down to correct the folly and then shot up again to continue on with the run, but as soon at the gaze fell apon the place he thought the butterflies should be, the child realized the insects sudenly, just were not there. Poof, gone, nothing but thin air, like they had never existed in the first place.

Wrong. The sensation hit the boy like a wave of cold water. dread, nausea and the slightest hints of fear settling into the pit of his core. For the first time since deciding to run after the butterflies, Phantom looked around him, and accually saw his environment. And it was Dark, but not bed-time-dark-comforting in the least. It was cold and it felt like the whisps of shadows were moving around him with nothing to move it, like it was alive all on it's own. Wrong.

Subcontiously in an attempt to comfort and protect himself, the young ghost's clean white aura brightened, but it did little to light up the expanse of seemingly endless black that surrounded him. Wrong, it all felt so wrong. The first thoughts of the caution and warnings given by his elders entered his mind since the butterflies had come to him. Now his little friends were gone, leaving him alone on this big dark rock, and he was afraid. Yes, he was afraid and wanting to go home, back to his Haunt, the forest he loved and he knew loved him back. That was nowhere near here though, and try as he might, the small phantom couldn't seem to find the familier crowns of the trees of his home in this horrible dark. The scary, sufficating dark.

A groaning sigh permiated the air of the zone. Then a wimper. Then a sob. The phantom lay curled up on his side , hugging himself and trying to be brave. Someone would notice him, he told himself. THe singer with the blue fire hair, or her friend made of metal with green fire hair. Someone. Another chocked sob escaped his mouth at the thought of his friends. No, they wouldn't come, no one would. Why should they? THey would be expecting him to be in his woods, not out here, and even if he didn't apear when they called for him, they would see nothing wrong with that. Sometimes he didn't come to them when they visited, because he had thought it fun. A game. Ha, some game now. Trying to scrunch himself into an even tightere ball to block out the black shapes that had crept closer over the course of the time he had been there, he failed to see the definite form of a person, padding through the veil.

Truth be told, the person did not want to be seen. At least, not as he was now, a void in the shadows where no light could ever hope to reach and escape to show the features of the creature. A Wraith was on the move, and this wraith had come accross an unpassible chance. A Little one, one of the few left within the world he inhabbited, and just as he'd wanted, the Wraith had lured it into his claws. However, he had not expected his prey to be so...young.

The Phantom hatchling looked little more then three years old, so why was he alone and not with the rest of his nestmates? Now the wraith was shifting slightly within the shadows that blocked him from the sight of the other. Nevousnes threaded through the dark one. Forget the other hatchlings, where was the mother? Shouldn't she have been keeping a closer eye on her brood? The Wraith started at the sound of another sob, bordering tinf time a wail. Oh, this was not good. He shook himself free of such feelings. He should just grab the child and kill him, before the angry parent came for its crying child. He knew from experience that a Phantom female with a nest of babies was not a force to be reconed with. It had been a while since he had gotten a decent meal though as his stomach remined him, and the hatchling Phantom would provide an exilent reserve of energy he could feed off of for weeks, at least.

Making up his mind, the shadow being strode forward, his misty form shifting into his coporeal killing form, fully intent on taking the child. As real feet stalked over the ground, he found himself looking over the body he now sported. As a Wraith his subcontious mind autimaticaly shifted to look like what others would percieve as 'comforting' and would bring the prey in closer, there fore, he never looke quite the same way twice during a killing. This look, however, interested him.

Cearulean skin was the first big change. He couldn't remember much of his other forms, but he knew the skin was very different. Reaching up with black-clad hands, he felt high, devil-horn style hair sitting atop his head. By the tint around his vision, the wraith assumed his eyes were red, and glowing, much like the glowing green eyes staring fearfully up at him.

Ah, phantom babies. The Wraith would never come to understand just how the species could thrive for so long, and then by some miricle be whiped nearly clean from the entirety of the ghost-zone. No one, not even the ghosts who had been around for centuries knew what happened. Yet, here he was, looming over the form of a phantom child, and where there was a child, parents had to exist. Perhaps the species of spectral entity was not compleatly annihilated, no, but the wraith was sure of one thing, by the end of this night, there would be one less phantom in the zone for the world to know of.

Gazing down menicingly into the glowing green orbs of the boy, the wriath felt...almost sorry for it. After all, it WAS only a child, and a very young one at that, but it had strayed out of it's territory, and was at the mercy of all types of the nasty things that go bump in the night. It just so happened that what the little one should run into was a Wraith, a spirit eater, and a top preditor. It was a bit regretable that it had to happen to one who knew nothing of the events about to play out, as was evident by the boy suddenly standing and looking over him curiously instead of with fear, but those were the facts of life. The strong and the smart survived, and the weak and stupid were cleared away by those supirior to them.

Now that he was infront of the Phantom, the old Wraith felt...something. This was accualy new for him, this feeling. But why? He must have killed thousands of spirits in his life, but this feeling was totaly new. What was it? Did he feel something for the child? No! It was food, nothing more. Just kill it and go on his way, not sit here staring at it like an idiot. The Wraith willed his hands to move and grab the boy, his jaws to draw open for a death blow, but they just wouldn't do it. He couln't make himself.

What was wrong with him, this shouldn't be so difficult! Reach down, snap the child's neck, and be done with it! What was all this hesitation and second thoughts? It most certainly was not because the little male below him was sniffling and hiccuping while trying to regain breath from all that crying or staring up at him with a very pleading but hope filled expression that was tinged with curiosity , or crawling forward and hugging his legs-oh!

No! His mind and body both reeled back in pure shock, not fully aware of what to make of all of this. A Phantom hatchling; lost, alone, and so young it didn't even posses flight, was clinging to HIM, a Wraith, a spirit EATER, one whom he should be headed for the hills from! But no, here the little one was, attatched to the wraiths left leg like his whole world depended on it. Hell, it was even making those annoying high pitched squeals in the back of his thraot that phantoms will do to show...affection. The living shadow had a thought then, watching the tiny prey.

What if his prey, had no one to show affection to? Or, more presisly, had no one to receive affection or at least care from. Was this little one perhaps alone?

The wraith would admit, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Alone...

For a Phantom it was almost unthinkable. Phantoms, at least when it was nesting season and it offspring were involved, lived in larger family groups, consisting of at least three different mating pairs and all the hatchlings. The think that this one kid was totaly alone baffled him, however, the circumstances being what they were, not impossible.

Perhaps he had wandered off to far and gotten lost when he was even younger, or maybe there was something wrong with him that had made the mother cast him out. The boy didn't seem to have a whole lot of self-preservation instinct, that was for certain. But still, the idea of a child being alone, wheather by chance or poor choice still left a bad taste in his-No! Stop!

The wraith gritted his jagged teeth and clenched iridecent eyes in frustration. He needed to stop thinking about this situation. What did he care if his meal was alone or not? What should he care that said meal was not more then a small frightened child unknowingly clinging to his own demise because no one had been there to teach him otherwise? He didn't. Shouldn't. Couldn't, and that was that. In fact, wouldn't it be better to put the hatchling out of its lonely misery and gain from it then let it go on with its unfulfilling life and gain nothing? Of course it was.

The Dark one reached down and picked up the tiny body, which squeaked in response. He firmly grasped the head, so small it could fit in his hand, and so fragile it would take nothing to break and never repair.

Muscles tensed, and flexed in preperation, and then

Those eyes. Those wide, curious, unfearing and overly (and he was loath to ever admit,) cute eyes glanced up to his pupiless red ones and all the fight left within him fled, just as his hunger for the little glowing body in his arms. He could not do it. He just...it isnt...he cant... The old one sighed, the depth of the exhale ruffling a few of the truely pure white strands of softer then silk hair on the phantom child's head.

Well...now what? the old wraith thought. I can't kill the little beast, nore ccan I just fling it away to rot here. It's is lost, and by the way its clinging to me, most likely thinks I'm its parent now or something equily rediculas. So, what to do with it? Might he... No! He would NOT consider THAT option. The life the wraith lead was far to hazardous and, well, for lack of a better word, gorey. Fighting over already torn up prey was common, the wraith had done it enough times to know, and seeing something like that at such a young age would surely affect the little phantom. It might get killed by something or run off. He shook his head. Why was he even thinking like the cute little bugger was going to be coming with him when he left here? Wasn't and he was going to put his foot down on this one.

Not that he wouldn't enjoy the company this one could bring later, after it learned to speak properly. Phantom hatchlings, although able to understand others words, were not known to be greatly articulate untill they were six or seven years old. Mostly comunicating in squeaks and squeals, howls, growls, hisses and the like were used among the young. And the Wraith now held a purring and ever-so-content hatchling in his arms who seemed perfectly ready to use him for a bed, no questions asked. The old one just stared down at the little body he clutched, watching the chest rise and fall in a slowing rythm, the breaths coming deeper and clamer as sleep claimed the tired child. Well. A scoff and an eye roll accompanied the shadow being as he(albeigt, a bit clumblely; he wasn't used to having a real body for extended periods) lowered himself and the toddlerto the rocks.

It was late, and he knew it wouldn't do to ponder this whole situation now, else he'd spend all of the night stuck on the thoughts going in useless circles inside his head. Tomorrow, he decided as he gingerly tucked the boy under one arm while he lay down on his belly. He would let this run past his mind, tomorrow. One last glance down to make sure he wasn't smothering the boy, and he lay his head down on the rocks. Gods, now he, Wraith, one of the most feared preditors of the ghost-zone was playing broody to what should be his dinner. The blue skinned Wraith physically cringed at the thought, but stilled at the sound the action had drawn from the body tucked under him.

Uhg, his only hope was if the boy had run off by morning. The only reward he got for his thoughts was a cold little child snuggling even closer to him. Yes, run away of his own free will...

The poor Wraith hadn't a chance in all of Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, it was perfect! Everything was just right, the wind currents, his position, the prey, everything! His father would be so proud of him, he just knew it. After all, he did take all that time to teach him how it was done, and he was going to show Vlad that even though he was distracted at times, he could so listen and do things right.

He had to show him. He felt as if he owed it to him.

The boy shook such thoughts from his head. He needn't focus on that now. Now was the time to act. As he had said before, his father was expecting him home with the prey, and the Phantom boy would be damned if he was to fail just because he got distracted, like his father always scolded him for. Glancing over the steep side of the cliff side he was crouched under, he eyed the sweeping plateau before him, and his objective grazing the florescent grass which grew abundantly on the high moors. He had been there for about two, maybe three hours now, but as Vlad always said, patience, especially when stalking prey, was a virtue. One had to be careful, and smooth, never giving away your position until the very moment you strike, and the one you take down can no longer run. It was the way of the predator, and it had taken Danny many harsh lessons and even more nights with nothing in his belly to learn this.

And right now, it was not just him who would be benefiting from this hunt, his father was counting on him to bring home supper, as the wraith had told him before he had left to begin his hunt, he had business to attend to, whatever that meant.

Ah well, the phantom thought. He would worry about that at a later time. All that he needed to focus on now was what was in front of him. Namely, the heard of spectral, skeletal elk he had been skirting around for the past afternoon. It had taken nearly all morning and even after midday before he found the heard, but after looking over it for a bit, he had decided that it would make decent pickings. Currently, the phantom child had his gaze locked dangerously on one skeleton.

After deciding to take from this group, Danny had begun circling, looking for a weak link, and easy picking, and he had found one, singled away from the rest, grazing slowly on its own by an outcropping of purple rocks. To anyone else, the elk would look sickly, as was clearly marked by the languid way its green aura clung to its form as if it wanted to just drop off the creature, or the coughing, wheezing noise it made with every 'breath'. (After all, its a bit difficult for an actual skeleton to breath.) But to the phantom, these symptoms were simply a fantastic opportunity. Not only would the prey's condition make it slower on the chase and quicker on the kill, but it would mean less exertion on his part. He would need that strength to be able to fly home with his catch, and the less work he did in the actual hunt, the more energy he would have for that.

The Phantom waited, still couched below the ridge. He could hear the small thumps of hooves upon the grass, not far off. It was getting closer. He found himself panting, trying to scent the air. The _snippy clipp rriip, chew chew chew_ of vegetation being torn from the earth by long flat teeth shot through his ears. Closer. His heart rate picked up in preparation, fingers curling into semblance of claws, claws like those of his father's whom he wished he could have. So close now. He could almost literally feel it. Were those thumps he was feeling the elk, or his own heart? A glance up, and Danny was met with hollow sockets leering down at him, the grin of death mere inches from his face, the cold breath of the deceased herbivore ruffling the snowy hair that hung in front of his eyes. A proverbial heart beat of a moment and then...

* * *

The Wraith breathed a deep sigh, exhaling nearly all of the breath left in his temporary lungs with it while he wrapped yet another bandage around the leg of the boy before him. He was rewarded for his efforts with a small whimper of pain. A scowl started to form on the shadow being's face as he heard the sound. Gods...how, in all the years of training and coaching he had devoted to this child, could the boy have made such a..a stupid..idiotic...a true statement of unfocused... "Father?" A young voice interrupted him from his muttered musings, and suddenly he realized those mutterings were not in his head, he was actually speaking them aloud. His little Phantom was staring up at him with uncertain eyes, one of which was blacked out, or, more accurately, dark-greened out. The extensive bruise made the thunderous scowl upon his face return tenfold. The boy before him squirmed a bit in his seat under the dark look.

There was a stretch of silence so tense and taught, to where the slightest snippet of sound could snap it in two. Finally, as if it would kill the boy if he didn't say anything, he sucked in air and opened his mouth to say something, no doubt to NOT atone for his trouble-making but merely make excuses for himself and his actions, as he normally did in such situations. Well. The Wraith was NOT having THAT THIS evening, not in any way.

"Do not, Daniel. I don't wish to hear it. You knew better. You knew!" The boy flinched under the deathly tone. So he should. However, that didn't stop him from being the foolhardy boy with the arsenal of comebacks he always was when his mind thought it was under some form of 'attack'.

"Well it's still not my fault! That old deer was nasty, and I wasn't prepared!" That did it.

"Of course you weren't prepared! You were no doubt distracted, gazing off into the distance like you always are, Daniel. Hadn't I told to keep to prey smaller then goats and sheep? Hadn't I!?" Gods below, are you even looking at yourself right now? You could have been killed!" The last line of the old Wraith's admittedly unintentional mini-rant echoed hauntingly around the small space, seeming to suck what little light the phantom's natural aura brought out with the last syllable, leaving the two feeling cold, and dead. The Shadow being almost felt remorse for his outburst. Almost. Suppressing a sigh that threatened to make it's way up his corporeal throat, he merely continued to glare down at the boy, who, not surprisingly, returned his glare.

Nothing more was said during the few minutes it took to finish wrapping the multiple cuts and scrapes the boy had gotten from his encounter. Good gracious. Really, the wraith thought, did the boy have no self preservation instinct at all? At All? What was going through that head of his when he came across that heard, as he had described it. Certainly not the fact that he was to young to take on something like that on his own, no. Most definitely not the possibility of his sudden attack on one of the heard members causing the others to stampede, that wasn't it. The Wraith father couldn't help it. In a much softer tone then before, so as to try and meant the situation, "You're not even full grown, Daniel. Why didn't you settle for what you normally do? I'm sure there must have been something else in the area of interest to you." The boy just rolled his eyes at the attempt of an apology from his elder, but decided to let it go. He knew that between Vlad and himself, saying "I'm sorry" was a hit on both of their prides that neither wanted to take, so the round about apologies were quite common.

"C'mon, old man. I'm almost eight, and then I WILL be full grown. What are you gonna do then, huh?" A twinkle the elder ruefully recognized entered the boy's eye. "Can't keep a force of nature like me down for long." The old one simple chuckled darkly, causing his young ward to draw back slightly. So he should.

"Oh, my foolish little phantom. Remember who it was that caught you all those meals, who guarded you from the big bad monsters that come around in the night, who taught you all that you know." And, true to the boy's nature,

"And I couldn't be more grateful, Vlad. Heck, if it wasn't for you, I might, gods forbid, have a social life." came the ever so snarky reply. The Wraith merely snorted at the sarcastic tone. He had adopted the boy under the pretense that he would be a good conversationalist, and so he had taught him the art of conversation. At times it seemed as though he taught too well, but thankfully tonight was not one of those times. The dig at the fact he spent his time with the wraith , and in reality, only the wraith sounded a bit more forced then normal like he was just doing it because he thought he had to. Not that he couldn't blame the boy for lack of effort. Daniel had been knocked about today, and was no doubt hungry as well due to the lack of a successful hunt.

One final time, the dark one sighed, and in helping the boy up decided to play the concerned parent again, putting what needed to be done before anything else.

"Come along Daniel. Lets get you to bed, and uh...I'll see what's out and about tonight, hum?" He looked down at the boy, truly expecting some spitfire snark, or even an enthused plea to help, but all he got was just a little nod, and a barely noticeable twitch of his lips that one couldn't really even consider a smile. And the wraith stood by as the phantom boy walked out onto the open ground of the canyon floor, then with a grace that would make most go green(er) with envy, the boy glided up and into the large fissure in the rocks that served as home. It was truly as sad sight to see. What could have gotten his boy so down in such a short period of time? Ah, well. He could ponder that as he searched for a meal for the two of them. The day had obviously been taxing, and he needed something to relax himself, not just from the worrying over the state of the boy's emotional health, but from the rather tense meeting he'd had with two other spirits while the boy was away, collecting information about this and that; simply the comings and goings of the Ghost Zone, along with some much needed ah...alone time, one might say. After all, the wraith thought, being a parent was fulfilling, but it was hardly a part time job.

Vlad mused while he slid through the Zone, his misty form conforming the landscape and sending out tendrils of dark substance, searching, feeling. Not even an hour ago, the boy would have been begging to make up for his folly this afternoon by wishing to join him. Not an hour ago, the mere mention that he was to stay home even if he was hurt would have sent him into what could only be described as a self-riotous hissy fit (and his being a phantom, the hissing was meant quite literally.) But all that piss and vinegar was just gone tonight, for whatever reason. Not like it hadn't existed; the boy trying to make an excuse of his poor choice of prey proved that it was still there, but it was rather like he felt Vlad didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of it. Why? The boy had shouted at him for far smaller issues, and with such enthusiasm. As the wraith found a large swath of open scrub ground, perfect for smaller prey ghosts to lure in, Vlad concluded there could only be but one reason Daniel was being so well behaved tonight:

Guilt.

It was something the wraith felt often, and in no small dosage either. Guilt was one of the few reasons why the wraith still did what he was doing now; hunting for the boy, doing things for him, when he knew the boy had the skill and know-how to do it himself. He felt guilty, at having taken Daniel away from what may have been a better situation for the boy, just to satisfy the hole he had created inside for himself. Ultimately, Vlad thought as his trick butterflies caught the attention of a wandering ghost-hawk, guilt was what made him keep Daniel with him at all. If events had played out how the wraith figured they should have, nearly five years ago, Daniel would be gone by now, off into the great expanse of the ghost zone to find a mate and forge a life for himself, leaving Vlad the Wraith alone, like he wanted. However, life is not always what we want it to be, Vlad thought as his shape morphed into something akin to a harpy for the kill. Vlad never wanted children, not until the boy came into the picture. Even then, the first few weeks of following Vlad around like a puppy grew tiring, and having to satisfy the boy's seemingly bottomless pit of a stomach left Vlad with little to no time to himself, making him irritable. Thinking back as the wraith pulled sharply on the hawk's neck killing it, Vlad supposed the first time he really felt the obligation of raising the boy for his own had set in the first time he had harmed the Phantom hatchling, though one could hardly call the boy who was fourteen in appearances now a hatchling anymore.

He had been having a rather bad night. It was storming, and badly too. After Daniel's unintelligible (the boy was not yet able to speak) cries for nourishment, the wraith had gone and gotten himself soaked to the bone for him, returning with little. He had brought nothing for himself, seeing as all Vlad had really wanted that evening was to be left alone to think and brood, but the boy was persistent; wanting to climb onto his lap and sleep on him. In all honesty, Vlad was still getting used to the idea he now had a tiny person to take care of, and in a fit on momentary anger at the antics of the boy, Vlad lashed out, hitting the phantom child square in the jaw.

In reality, it was no more then a mediocre smack, but to the two beings in the cave, it was like the horrible cracking sound that follows lightning, with the deafening boom after confirming your terror. At first, Vlad could only stare dumbstruck at what he had done, even when the boy started crying, little glowing green tears streaming down his small face. When the boy attempted to scramble back from him, Vlad moved with a swiftness that he hadn't thought himself capable of for one his age. Scooping up the wailing child, he shushed the boy, apologizing endlessly through the rest of that dark, stormy night that neither Vlad, nor Daniel wished to recall. Vlad knew Danny remembered it, yes, Phantoms had very keen memories, but he also knew, that sometime through the course of that night, Daniel forgave him as well, and perhaps, that was why Vlad felt so guilty. He didn't think he deserved the boy's forgiveness, for anything.

Coming back to the present time, the Wraith shook his head. In truth, this may not be what is wrong with Daniel. The boy might just be extraordinarily tired, or the dark one may just be hitting the nail on the head. He didn't know, and just being who he was, Vlad hated not knowing. But this was easily (or perhaps not so easily, knowing Danny's tendency to hide things) remedied.

With the bird dead (or at least, starting to dissolve into a state of purer ectoplasm to consume), and the wraith cleaned up, he prepared to return home to his fostered son and have a lengthy chat about why the boy felt the way he did.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 2

He wondered. And he thought, and pondered and puzzled. All sorts of musings went through his head, but, never had he paid much mind to them before. In truth, he still didn't and why should he? Most of the time it was useless thoughts, the kind one thinks up in the middle of the night for no reason, just because the brain can and will, to annoy you. And as the Phantom boy sat on the ledge overlooking the great expanse of canyon land that had become his home, he did just that; let those pesky didn't-even-have-substance-thoughts run through his mind as he waited for his father to return.

Danny thought about his day and of what an utter failure it had been. He mused lightly over what he could have done differently to make it better, but only for a moment. Vlad always said that to dwell on the mistakes of the past other than to learn from them is a fool's meditation. And, Danny agreed. What was done was done, and it wasn't like he could go back and change time anyway. Leaning back so that only his legs dangled over the edge, he gazed up. And up and up into the ever swirling ever shifting and changing seemingly endless abbeys of the ghost zone sky. Little specks of twirling toxic green, a very close color to his eyes at that, danced about each other in some crude rendition of the human world's stars. Not that he minded the difference. Honestly, he actually thought the human stars were...how he could describe it...duller. Less, forgive the pun, full of life. The human stars were not ageless, and he supposed that was the reason they never caught his interest like his own worlds did. These stars did not die, did not fade, and did not flaunter in their everlasting celestial waltz. He could trust them, Danny knew. These stars would be here for him forever.

Great, the little white hair thought, sitting up with a groan when the bashed muscles in his back started cursing at him for lying down on such a hard surface for such a time, now he was starting to get all angst-y and way too dark for his own good. Leave the brooding to Vlad, he thought, the old wraith is always contemplating something deep and mysterious, especially when he believed Danny wasn't looking. Sometimes Danny would ask his father what he was thinking, but it was very few times he got more than an "Oh, nothing of importance," or "not something someone as small as you should be worrying their heads over." Most of the time he was just waved off, told to go play, or given some chore to do. Naturally, being the spark Danny was, he couldn't help but press about it, or make some remark (the remarks would more often than not leave Danny with an oft used boot up the butt for his mouth).

However, it wasn't the fact that the man didn't tell him what he was contemplating about so much that got him riled up, it was just the fact that Danny wanted to know, but lately, it was like Danny already knew what his father was thinking.

He was under no delusions, Danny. His father had made sure that since the time he was old enough to understand, that he and Vlad were very different. He knew he was a Phantom, and his father was a Wraith. Two completely different kinds of spectral entities that under no normal circumstances should be able to coexist within miles of each other, yet here they were. A wraith, raising a Phantom, a species of specter thought to be nearly extinct. If fact, Danny thought with a shudder, if things had gone on as nature intended, he bet Vlad would have eaten him when the wraith had found him like he told the phantom he did. Danny wondered if he DID almost eat him. Hah, bet that was fun for him. Just going about his business one evening, then coming across the likes of him.

The white haired boy remembered hardly anything from that time. Just brief flashes of trees, glowing green, quite a bit of that, and then, all of a sudden, Vlad. It was like one moment he never knew the man, and the next moment, he was there, always there.

It was a bit disconcerting, Danny realized. The little not complete memories and all. Normally, his memory was fantastic, even his father was surprised at first how much Danny could remember about even the smallest of details. (The fact that Danny often missed large chunks of sometimes important information Vlad told him was simply because he just chose to not listen, not that he couldn't remember.) It left him wondering why he could not remember that time he felt was so small before the blue skinned Wraith had come into his life, why he felt like there was one big hole in not only his mind but his heart where what Vlad represented and provided had taken up residence as. Why was there something missing Danny desperately thought? But, perhaps, that was not the most important thing here. Not why was it missing, but WHAT? What was wrong, what had gone, what had fled the little phantom boy at such a young age he was truly to small to even retain a single memory? It plagued his head, sometimes for hours on end, just tossing and turning the phantom's thoughts until it felt like he could no longer form a coherent train of thought without feeling like he was going to throw up. He...he felt like he NEEDED that something he was missing, NEEDED it with such a force, that the need eventually drove him, often without his own consent to the one person who seemed to drive all the bad thoughts and feeling of utter emptiness away.

Vlad, his father. Vlad, the one person who never left. Vlad, who against all social, emotional, and even natural laws had taken in a small hurting boy and given him...that something the boy had needed most, whether the boy had known it at the time.

Admittedly, Danny knew he HAD to stop thinking like this, he would make himself upset, and he didn't want Vlad to come home to Danny bawling like a baby. Danny straightened his back at the very thought of his no-nonsense father seeing him crying at his age of almost-nearly-eight. He was just about a grown adult, and darn it, a grown Phantom male, does not cry Danny thought with a firm face. A pause, then the boy slumped back down in his seat on the rock, a rather grumpily resigned expression taking up residence on the young face. Ah, who was he kidding? He wasn't a grown up yet, no matter how much of a tough-boy act he put on for others. He didn't even know what a full grown phantom WOULD act like; it wasn't like he had ever met one. Heck, even when he DID turn eight, he would still have at least a couple more years until his mental and full physical prowess reached their peak. The way Vlad had explained it to him, (and what an awkward conversation THAT had been) his body at the age of eight human years old was not necessarily mature, but more like his physiology was done growing. Like a deer actually. A full grown male deer didn't necessarily have antlers, those one had to wait for, even if the buck was done growing. His mind still had to be shaped, to be taught in ways that the both of them knew Vlad could never fully give, no matter how hard he tried.

And Danny couldn't help but wonder... would he always need his father? What had conspired between the two of them before was true, Danny being a phantom, matured far quicker then most species of specters. He was seven now in human years, and still fairly young looking; more like a thirteen or fourteen year old human and he would continue to look that way for a while yet but according to Vlad's daily measurements and the sheer amount of ectoplasmic calories the boy had been consuming as of late, the young looking boy would grow almost unnaturally quickly into his adult form in the course of one year, and then...well, neither Danny nor Vlad was sure what would come after that. Only one thing was for certain though: as soon as Danny was full grown, he could no longer stay with Vlad. As a fully grown phantom, Danny would start to send out core pulses as a form of subconscious communication, and those pulses were not felt by other phantoms alone. All sorts of nasty things were drawn to those pulses, and Danny didn't want to put the old wraith in any more danger then he already had, just by living with him.

.

Letting out a great length of breath, the juvenile phantom decided that he didn't want to think anymore tonight. He was tired, sore, and if Vlad didn't return home soon, he would just go to bed without eating. He didn't mind, not really. An inconvenience? Yes. Totally life destroying? Not even close. (Well, unless you didn't eat ever again, but that was a given.) It just wasn't worth it to get oneself worked up about something you couldn't do anything about. I was inevitable, like the sun rising and falling every day. Danny would grow up, would out grow his need for an adult in his life, and no amount of pondering or wishing it wasn't so would remedy that.

Groaning softly out into the quiet of the night, Danny just wished Vlad got home sooner. For what reason, he wasn't sure. He didn't really want to talk, but he just wanted the other around. He hated being left alone to think, it never ended well.

"Daniel."

In all reality, Danny thought his reflexes where rather good, even if he father sometimes made comments about reaction time not being the same thing as reflexes, but all things considered, Danny really didn't scare that easily anymore. However, as most know, there is a difference between being startled, and getting scared. The calling of his name certainly didn't scare him so much as...startle him. Danny in response to the sudden voice whipped his head up and glanced behind him to the rest of the ledge in front of the home cave, fully expecting to see Vlad there, the ever present stoic look about him, but there was no one.

The Phantom boy was now a bit concerned, and more than a mite confused. He had heard his name being called, clear as day. But there was no one about?

"Daniel."

He gasped, his breaths coming in shorter gasps as his lungs constricted; where was it coming from? He didn't like this, it set his instincts on edge when he was trying desperately to be calm. Was his father playing some form of trick on him? True, there had been tests before. Vlad liked it when Danny kept on his toes, and those little surprises he gave helped, but the wraith had stopped doing that a while ago, after he had deemed Danny fit to hunt for himself. This situation left Danny with the sensation of ice water being trickled down his back. With all the caution of prey being stalked, the phantom slunk to the edge of the rocky crag he had been perched on previously. The...voice, (his father?) sounded like it was coming from the edge, rebounding up from the shadows below on the very floor of the canyon. Danny let out a shaky breath. It was ok, he told himself. There is no reason to get all riled up like that, it's just...Vlad... His father was asking for him, but, there was something wrong... or was there? Ugh, what was it? Why was he even still up here? Fly down to your father, its fine.

The phantom boy paused, his white boots teetering on the very brink of the precipice, with naught but gravity holding him to the earth. Something stopped his from making a decent, from gliding down to where his father was obviously calling him and would be quite irate were he to not comply. One final time a voice split the air, echoing through the rocky gorges and into the ears of the fledgling phantom, only this time, Danny was alert to everything. The wind current, the light...the voice. There was something about the voice that sent the hair on the back of his neck shooting straight up, though it was familiar enough. The voice should calm him, sooth hi tensed nerves but this one didn't and the phantom wanted to know why.

"Daniel."

No. A click. A scratch. A jump in the voice, where it should be flawless, the word flowing off the tongue which had spoken it a thousand times before and was prepared to say it a thousand times more. A tiny, minute, only-able-to-be-heard-by-the-most-keen-ears-in-the-world-squeak, was heard by those same keener then most ears. And it would pay dearly. The voice was not correct.

A set of barred teeth shone in the night, whiter then the pearls gathered from the depths of the oceans; two eyes, glowing a brilliant a green as sunlight through tree leaves on the hottest of summer days.

Barely a whisper of sound, cutting through the air, like wind over still water; soft, silent, but this whisper carried death in its hands, and a hunter's instinct in it's mind. This was no mere bit of breeze. This was an angered Phantom slicing through the darkness with speed no human could conjure with any of their inventions and knowledge, and this Phantom was on the move to irradiate whatever man, ghost, or anything in between that had DARED to try and impersonate his father in his own territory.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 3,

It wasn't often Madeline Fenton disputed her husband's decisions, especially when they were related to their work, however, that didn't mean she totally agreed with EVERYTHING he did. That being said, she thought that even if it was for research, Jack Fenton agreeing to take on the month long trip to the Ghost Zone was a BIT much. Just a bit.

Still, work was work, even if one didn't like some aspects. Removing the binoculars from her eyes, Maddie glanced over to where Jack was setting up the camping gear and a few of the devices they would be utilizing tonight, namely, the Ecto-voice modulator. They had made it themselves, and were quite proud of it. It even had the added bonus of doing what it was made to do: lure in ghosts by transforming different human words and phrases into the calls and 'language' ghosts and spectral entities could understand. Well, that was its primary use anyway. The other was that using the same technology, they could play and record more accurate ghost-calls then other previously used spectral recording equipment. Currently, Jack was plugging in some cables to the portable generator to power the device and fiddling with some dials on the side of the black speaker-like box.

Turning her face back to the acid skies of the Zone, she mulled over what they were here for in the first place.

It was a rather odd case, this one, and nothing if not positively strange in every sense of the word. She remembered almost laughing aloud at the intern when she received the report from the A.S.E.P. (Association of Spectral Entities Protection) of...get this... a male wraith seen caring for and raising a pup. Oh, but that wasn't the best part of it. Apparently, the pup itself was not a wraith. This time, Maddie really did let out a silent laugh; not at the thought of the impossible happening in the world of the dead where everything is possible in some form or another, but at herself for believing it to be impossible. They knew better now. Well, maybe she still held a fairly high amount of doubt about the prospect of a wraith with another entity not of its own, but at least after observing some of the Ghost Zone's finest examples of freaky, she was starting to warm up the idea.

After the report had been filed and the request for a research trip into the Zone confirmed, Jack and Maddie had spent the next month preparing for whatever they might happen across in the Opposite World. It had taken some time to fully refresh them, especially when it came to being able to identify all of the many species of ghost in the zone. It was important that they knew what they could be looking at and could accurately name them, as this would be their biggest issue in this case. The heads of their lab wanted to know what it was that was traveling with this wraith. Before agreeing to be the team that went out on this mission, theories were still tossed about in hopes to come up with some sort of evidence to decide what this thing was.

Naturally, after exhausting the most probable options, someone, (Maddie couldn't remember who it had been) had gone and thrown out the theory that had everyone in the boardroom either smirking at the mere thought, or sitting in a tense silence.

The theory was, judging by the few blurred pictures from TrailCams and behavioral observations, that a Phantom of all the species to choose from was what the unknown creature was.

Ha. That was rich. A phantom. Were they idealists, or just ignorant of past events? Everyone in the Paranormal Observations field knew that a full twenty years ago now, the species of spectral entity called Phantoms went on the Extinct species list. There were no more! (actually, she corrected herself, there were still a few dozen in special care units in the human world, but attempts to create breeding programs failed, due to the phantoms themselves refusing to mate, and due to the nature of phantoms, a female wont care for eggs without a mate, even if she lays them.) Sure, extensive search teams had been sent out to known nest sites and documented territories within the Ghost Zone, but the forests these specters inhabited were empty, and the nests abandoned. It was true that no bodies or signs of death had been recovered, but without real evidence that wild Phantoms still existed or would ever exist again, the A.S.E.P. had no choice but to list Phantoms as extinct. What a pity it was to. Maddie and Jack in particular had always been fascinated by the quirky little ghiests. She had even heard him go on about how with patience and time and if you started while they were very young, you could train them to be a house hold 'pet' as it were. And it seemed that Jack had wanted one...

Ah well, that was in that past. There were no Phantoms, and hadn't been for years. As Maddie stood to stretch her limbs and see if she could be of assistance to her husband, she considered what possibilities they hadn't thought of yet to make a match for their mysterious wraith's friend.

"Jack, darling, what if the unidentified party was a sprite of some sort? You know how the little things are, always buzzing around bigger predators looking for scraps."

"Can't be. It's too big." Jack replied standing up from his previously crouched position. "You saw the pictures." She had, a whole board room full of apprehensive and skeptical scientists had, but even so...

"Well, what about a wisp? They glow just about as brightly, and are crepuscular, which seems to be the average timeframe the sightings were made."

"Again, to big, AND it's humanoid, not paraphysical."

Maddie gave a deep sigh, not bothering to push the subject anymore. Her husband would just refute any theory she offered with, admittedly, good evidence. It seemed he was just dead set (oh dear, pun) on the entity being a thing they'd not seen for nearly two decades. Well, if she had to be the rational one this time around, so be it. And with this in mind, Maddie climbed into the Fenton R.V. and collected her hiking backpack, Trailboots, a couple protein bars, her water bottle and a flashlight with extra batteries. Seeing his wife gathering such items, Jack inquired as to where she was off to.

"The live traps we set earlier, dear. Something we aren't looking to catch may have set them off, and we need them to be fully empty and baited for what we ARE looking for."

"Oh. Need me to come along?" the orange-clad spectral enthusiast asked, hope lighting his eyes. "The machines we can set up later if you want!"

The woman shook her head and started to walk off. "I'll be fine, Jack. Besides, I DO want those machines set up now. At least the Ecto-Voice modulator please as I want to get this started tonight. I'll be back!"

After setting off in the general direction of the first trap, Maddie's mind began wandering again, and her eyes lazily took in the surrounding area.

It was quite pretty, she had to admit. The way the violet and indigo jutting rock formations looked as if they'd been compacted and morphed by the same natural forces that shaped the earth. She even thought she spied a precious gem or two in the patches of light that shined down past the crags and precariously perched boulders, but it could have been a trick of the same light. All things in the Ghost Zone, no matter how 'inanimate' some seemed held an energy all it's own, and the little flickers of color could just the canyon trying to confuse her or something. Glancing down at the small ecto-friendly gps device she kept to her person at all times in the Zone, she breathed an involuntary sigh of relief seeing her campsite and husband as a plain blue dot not yet half a mile away. Say what you would about her, being that she bit her nails while stressed, or needed far more coffee then most doctors would say was healthy to get up in the morning, but Madiline Fenton would always openly admit to being a bit paranoid every time a trip the Ghost Zone was required.

The one month expedition with naught but Jack and their communication devices didn't really help.

After another fifteen minutes and about twelve more checks on the gps, Maddie was in sight of the first trap.

Situated in a natural alcove under an embankment of stone un the canyon floor, the trap itself was a plain, stainless steel Live trap, very similar in design to the smaller ones used to capture raccoon and opossums in corn fields. The metal was pained in differing shades of lighter and darker purples to blend in with the rock hues and also to dim any glints from light on steel that may scare away or make wary their target. Because they had no idea what sort of ghost they were dealing with, they had no idea of what intelligence level it possessed, so a purple-camouflage design tarp was the final disguise for the trap, covering all that was left to be covered, save for the opening itself.

Seeing as the trap was not banging around as whatever inside it thrashed to escape, Maddie assumed it was empty and still baited. Peering into the open door, four feet by three feet, she confirmed this. In the very back of the trap, about six feet, lay tied a block of frozen ectoplasm, already beginning to drip and soak into the dirt of the canyon floor. It was standard bait, and acclaimed by many a ghost hunter (the kind who captured ghosts NOT just to study them) as the perfect draw for predators and the dream find of scavengers. In Maddie's opinion, even if she wasn't one of those kinds of hunters, bagging a ghost that was already in a trap didn't seem very honorable OR fun, but she did agree that it was a good draw for the specters. Anyway, the bait looked untouched, as far as Maddie could tell, so she stood, made sure the trigger was set properly, and continued onto the next one.

About another hour and a half later, dusk was beginning to set in, and She had JUST finished her chore.

"Goodness, Jack must be getting worried..." she mumbled to herself. Her first instinct was to reach for the cell phone she kept in her pocket, but then realized that both she and Jack had left them at home, as any cellular device ceased working as soon as it was in the ghost zone. The only communication they had were the small ecto-friendly radios, but Maddie had left her's back at Camp...

Drat! She had gone to check the traps for nothing, too. None of the five were activated, and now she had all that hiking back to do. Heaving a sigh, Maddie squared her shoulders and set off the same direction she had come. It was no use groaning about it, the sooner she left the last trap sight, the sooner she could get back to Jack and a warm dinner. Hopefully he wasn't too worried. She COULD handle herself, and she knew he knew that, but Jack was always so protective of her and their daughter. Motherly thoughts took hold of the woman as reminders to get in touch with Jazz as soon as was possible went through her mind. The sixteen year old was a good girl, and very responsible for one her age, but she was still a teen, and the parents did worry.

Nothing much happened on the way back to the campsite, which made Maddie a little less tense, but there was still that underlying current of and emotion Maddie couldn't put a name to. Dread? No, to dark. Fear? A bit to general. Whatever it was, the feeling could only be compared to what a child felt when they pulled the covers over their head in the night and called for their parents to make the monster under the bed or in the closet go away. Even now as the hunter walked along, she gave semi-concerned glances to the towering canyon walls that seemed to want to give the illusion of constricting themselves, boxing her in like a...a caged animal...

Stop. Maddie Fenton, the woman told herself with a stern expression, does not fear the Zone, or any specter that resides within it. There was nothing out here that would hurt her on purpose or without provocation. The notion giving her a boost of confidence, she dug into her pack and flicked the light on. The warm yellow-y glowing circle of light the little stick gave filled Maddie with a bit more reassurance. At the very least, she wouldn't stumble or fall over a wayward rock or something.

After what felt like a small eternity, the blue-clad hunter caught the glint of an orange light on the sides of the stone walls to her right, and the scent of chicken filter into her nose. Good old Jack. A couple more turns and there he was, stirring a small pot over a portable camping burner. Glancing up, the man smiled and pulled his wife into a great big bear hug.

"Sooo, did we catch anything?"

Groaning lightly as she set herself down in a cloth camping chair, Maddie let herself finally relax. She accepted the bowl of soup from the man and took a few hot mouthfuls before speaking.

"No, nothing yet, thankfully. I really do want to wait until we get the voice-modulator up and running, so we'll be able to speak with them. Well, somewhat."

"Yeah. I'd hate to capture a ghost and not understand that its spitting every curse it knows at me." he rolled his eyes and chuckled good naturedly. Oh, the things he'd no doubt been called...

His wife smiled. "Hm. The voice modulator is still being tweaked. The reverse speech programming is still a bit wonky. Not to mention the fact we've only had it tested on already sentient beings that can speak a form of a language. We don't know what a wild one who only makes animal like noises would sound like or even if it will register with the programming." she reminded him.

"I hope it IS sentient though. I'd be interesting to hear stories and experiences from it; we'd learn a lot. But, I don't have my hopes up, being they don't really learn to speak all that well..."

Jacks voice trailed off as he continued eating. Maddie had stopped and frowned at the comment. Really, she thought. Was the man STILL convinced what was out there was a phantom? Yes, by some miracle, it was within the realms of possibility, but if it was a phantom, why would it be here? Canyons and stones and scrubland, no matter what small prey it offered, was no territory for that species. Great old forests with high trees, strong limbs far from the ground and all the predators that loved the taste of eggs were where a phantom would be found. Not here, and, most definitely, not with a wraith of all things. And yes, this turf was a good place for THOSE bone chilling spooks. Living Shadows they were often referred to. Stories and rumors were passed around that many arrogant scientists and explorers had gone looking for the things, and never come back. The name itself made Maddie glance over her shoulder. Then again, she told herself, more often than not, those stories were from a different time altogether, like old wives tales. Science knew more about wraiths now, and it had been almost half a century since someone was even attacked by one.

"Come on Jack, we should head to bed. I'm tired." She was too. All that walking, even for the great outdoors woman Maddie Fenton had worn her out, and the meal of hot soup didn't help in keeping her awake. Pausing at the entrance of the giant orange tent, she glanced back to the man still sitting by the portable stove. He was still, looking up to the flickering sky and the ethereal moon, going through it's phases before their eyes, black to white, full to new in a matter of a minute. It gave her the same creepy feeling that she'd had when walking back in the dark. Just another reminder that she was in a land that followed no physical law, a place without human logic or reason. The very air around them did as it pleased, and could change from benign to malicious on a whim.

"Are you coming Jack?" He tore his gaze away from the heavens to look at his wife and nodded.

"Sure am, babe. Just gonna finish up setting the Voice modulator and turn it on for the night."

"Make sure you put on the wraith familial call. Oh! And the cameras. I want to get whatever may happen to come by later on tape. We might even get to see our mystery ghost."

they weren't planning on using the modulator for much more than a homing call device tonight. There was no reason to. they'd simply turn it on and play certain ghost calls, like a stereo.

"You got it." She ducked into the tent as he lumbered off to the equipment. Stripping off her regular jumpsuit and boots, Maddie changed into more comfortable night clothes, being some slightly worn sweat pants and an oversized tee shirt. Actually, wasn't this one of Jack's? Ah well. It was comfortable. Just as she lay down on the cot, the area hummed with such a low base note, it seemed to make the air itself vibrate, and carrying down to make her bones rattle. Almost inaudible to human ears, the sound of a wraith calling to its pup was something Maddie had heard many times now over the course of a month, but that first wave of sound still sent the hairs on the back of her neck up. It petered off, then started anew, the same call being put on repeat.

Their hope was, that by doing so, whatever wraiths may be in this area would be drawn to the sound, as wraiths tended to be territorial and solitary, not liking any others of their kind to cross the boundaries they'd laid out. Trapping one would be harder, but ensnaring a wraith was not what they had come to do. By luring in wraiths, they hoped to catch the one with the mystery ghost by its side and catch IT instead of the wraith.

They could only hope it worked, and soon, because if they still had nothing by the end of this week, their allotted time in the Zone was up, and they would have to go home, with virtually nothing to show for it. After a few minutes of the pulsing calls, she heard Jack's boots crunching over the gravely floor of the canyon towards the tent. The zipper drew back and his large form stepped into view. Being sleepy and already on the verge of non-awake, Maddies' voice was squeaky as he asked him if he remembered to turn off the stove. She didn't want it to scare off any possible candidates.

"Yep, it's all good. The perfect night for spooks of all sorts to come around."

She nodded faintly, and before he'd even finished undressing for bed, the woman ghost hunter was asleep.

* * *

To anyone who asked Madeline Fenton what the most horrible noise she could imagine was, most were expecting the answer to be something like nails on a chalkboard, or metal being rendered from itself, things like that. But, the real answer surprised most.

Maddie hated the sound of silence.

And utter, complete silence was what woke the red haired huntress in the dead of the night.

At first, it didn't quite register to her disheveled and bleary mind what exactly was wrong, but she did know something was up. Now that they were listening for disturbances, Maddies ears realized that, no, it was not true silence, as Jack's tent-rattling snores confirmed, but it was the lack of a particular sound...hm...

The voice-modulator! The wraith calls were set to repeated, right? So, why wasn't it working? Grumbling about marrying klutzes and wonky machinery that never works, the hunter stumbled out of that warm confines of her cot and out in to the cold open air of the canyon floor, but not before grabbing a flash light and a small ecto-wrist ray.

Just because a machine was malfunctioning didn't mean it hadn't been tampered with by less than human hands.

Rounding the bend of the embankment they had set up their machinery behind, Maddie was met with a sight she knew she would never, in all her life forget or remember in less the perfect detail for the single second it took to brand into her psyche.

Smoking metal was strewn everywhere, some even embedded into the sides of the canyon behind it. Little glowing and charred lines of hand crafted cables and wires, some with what was left of the plethora of decoding microchips still attached to them lay melted into incomprehensible globs of aftermath. And everything glowed. It seemed there was not a surface not covered with slimy, dripping, toxic green, pooling onto the rocks, soaking into the greedy earth, making the very sight look like something out of a b-rated horror film. But it wasn't. This was real. Oh, lord, someone...someTHING more like, must have heard the voice-modulator and deemed it worthy to destroy...and in turn destroyed itself when the unstable device exploded. The thought that something powerful enough to cause this much damage had been not a hundred feet from them while they were sleeping made Maddie blink back tears. They had been stupid, and they had been lucky.

"God," Maddie mumbled, "that glow... so much... what in heaven and hell could have..." she trailed off as her eyes lit upon something else, blown farther away by the force of the blast no doubt, which Maddie's analytic mind was beginning to question why she had not heard.

Upon first glance, one would mistake it for nothing more than a dusty and rather stained pile of old rags, had the keen eye of Maddie Fenton not been there to determine that no, the rags were attached to something. Namely: a body. A small, twitching body with two human arms and two human legs; the used-to-be-white boots they had sported now a coal black with grime and burned fabric.

Time must have ceased to be, or at least stopped or something, because Maddie would never know how long she stood there, simply staring at the beaten little figure before her, it's front pressing into the soil and stones eagerly lapping up its lifeblood pouring from to many cuts and scrapes, it's face turned away from her and covered by matted hair, a color she couldn't begin to make out. It...the child-like apparition... no. It couldn't have. The explosion was obviously to big, it should have been destroyed! But it wasn't. For the first time, it crossed Maddie's mind to go over and see what it was. What harm could it do now? It was out cold. At the very least, she could gather if it was female or male. Her mind snapped into action then, going from scared and alarmed bystander to rationalizing and focused scientist.

Right, so she had a wounded person here. She could worry about who or what it was later, but only after she made sure it was still 'alive' to examine.

Racing over to the specter speeder, which was parked a few yards away and seemed to have suffered no ill from the blast, Maddie rummaged around in the front compartments, mindful of all the dismantled live traps still in the back. There! The little red vinyl pack with the white cross on it. Running back outside to the mangled frame of the ghost, Maddie began to wonder if it was wise to wake Jack first. He'd want to know that his work had been destroyed, and at the hands of this..um..thing. Then again, he was sleeping; it would be near impossible to roust him, AND get him coherent enough to be of use in time to do anything. She was on her own.

Stepping up to the body, the first thing Maddie took note of was the aura. Or, more precisely, lacktherof. At first it worried her. Had it 'died' while she had been debating? No...if it was 'dead' it would be dissolving into pure ectoplasm now, not just laying there bleeding. Besides, there had been no aura in the first place. Speaking of, it was still hurt, and by now, Maddie's curiosity could no longer take the wait. Slipping her bare arms underneath the thin, oh so thin ribcage, she braced herself and pushed.

This was insane.

It was the only rational thought Maddie could think of in this situation. Completely, totally, most very definitely. Insane. Jack had been right. All along. There was no use denying it now, looking into the actual FACE of this young enigma. Or, more precisely, phantom. It was so clear now, just looking at the little thing. A rookie would have mistaken it for just another ghost that had died as a young teen, but there were signs one had to look for, signs that experienced ghost hunters like Maddie knew right off the bat.

One: Lack of internal Bone structure. Pressing her palm to his ribcage, Maddie felt the small ridges the bones made under her hand. Most types of ghosts ahd a rudimentary Bone structior that remained solid most of the time to give the ghost shape, but would bend under pressure, being made of naught more then condensed ectoplasm. Pressing down on the slightly abused ribs, she noted they did not give way. Thy remained solid, holding against her much like a human's would. Alright...

Two: Eyes type. Most ghosts and even specters had plain colored eyes, very different from humans; most notably common was the kind with no sclera or pupil. Moving to the two eyes of the boy, carefully as to not harm him, lifted up one eyelid; human. VERY human. The only thing wrong with the picture being the pupil was slitted, like a cat's, and the faint luminescence to the pure green iris.

Ok. So it it wasn't a true ghost but...there was one more thing. One more thing that she HAD to see to really believe; some part of her still being in denial. The last thing she needed to check was the hands. Well, not the hands specifically, but fingers on the hands, and what was between those fingers.

Spinners, like those of a human world spider. Hidden when not in use, the spinners of a phantom were located between each finger where the finger connected to the rest of the hand, appearing to be mere slits in the skin. It was how a phantom constructed its nest, using the natural ectoplasmic secretions to spin something akin to a giant spider web in the tops of trees, the nest itself being a huge hammock-like construct. Taking the bleeding, cut up right hand in hers, she moved her thumb to the space betwixt the index and middle finger, and squeezed lightly on the skin. A tiny drop, no bigger then a pea really smeared on her fingertip. Glowing lightly, when she pulled away the drop was stretched, being stuck to both her and the boy, creating three or four beautiful, fiber thin threads of spider-like silk, glinting like in and out of visibility in the dark.

Her mind was blank, her eyes blinking rapidly trying to make this scenario fit into any place with what she and the rest of the spectral enthusiast world knew to be normal. A phantom. I real phantom. Here! ALIVE! She felt lightheaded, giddy, and so totally...well, NOT Madiline Fenton-ish. Calm, she told herself. Focus. Looking back down at the face of the little creature, she observed it in greater detail. Male, by the facial structure, but juvenile by lack of fiery mane of hair, black sclera or simply it's rather puny size. And letting out breathy, almost undetectable keens of pain. Oh! Right! Stupid, Maddie, stupid! The woman scolded herself fiercely for her inaction. First aid, well...first, worry, hypothesize, and possibly celebrate later! The find of the decade had to be saved before becoming the find of the decade after all.

Unzipping the little red pouch, Maddie's hand immediately went to grasp the tiny white bottle plainly marked PAINKILLER but hesitated, wondering briefly if adding medicine would help, or be detrimental the boy's health instead. Letting go of the plastic container, she moved to the rolls of sterile gauze and bandages. She would worry about that later. Shock, in many cases was not an issue with certain species of ghosts, but she couldn't remember if Phantoms were one of them. She hoped not. But what would kill the little creature now was blood loss.

Alright. So, there's a three inch laceration running parallel to the collar bone, just below it, a patch of badly scraped skin on each of the palms that didn't look to deep, but was bleeding profusely, then a multitude of smaller cuts from shrapnel and being thrown to the ground adding to all the glowing green fluid congealing over the boy's body. She didn't have the materials on her at the moment to suture the wound on the collar bone, but if she could bind it tight enough, the phantom would be able to hold out to be transported to a spectral 'vet' so to speak, and receive proper care.

Wetting a clump of cotton balls with rubbing alcohol, she swiped it over the cut, clearing away a good amount of the spilt ectoplasm, and hastily cleared away the rest before laying a strip of gauze over it and binding it into place with the bandages, over the shoulder. The shoulder moved. Oh no. Darting her gaze down to the face of the creature, she saw he was moving, the muscles in the limbs contracting and pulling the hands, the fingers curling. Taking more rubbing alcohol, she cleaned the hands and wrapped them, hoping the phantom was mature enough to have the sense to not just pull them off the second he awoke. She doubted it though. If this was the mystery ghost she and Jack had been looking for all this time, then the phantom fledgling would have been living with a wraith, and it would not have cared if the child was harmed, let alone teach the boy to leave alone what was for his own good, like bandages.

It couldn't be helped. The clothes would have to come off. They were burnt and ripped, nearing falling off the form of the child. Sucking in her breath, Maddie reminded herself, there was nothing underneath said clothes that she was unfamiliar with, whatever gender the creature was. After all, she may not have worked with phantoms before; they'd gone extinct ( or so they thought, apparently) before she of Jack had gotten their degrees, but she did have experience with other humanoid entities. Taking what used to be the black jacket and slipping it past thin muscled shoulders drew a shutter from the body below her. He was waking faster than Maddie'd hoped he would. Either that or the fact he wasn't wearing any form of shirt under the jacket was making him cold, but she highly doubted that. A common trait with almost any kind of spectral entity, save for a great few, their natural body temperature was at least twenty degrees below human average. Moving quicker, but still gently as to not disturb him, she had a bit of trouble with the boots, but managed to untangle the laces and pull those off. Pausing to muse lightly over who had tied the shoes in the first place, she moved to the pants. Actually, those didn't look to bad, just stained and greatly ripped in places. They could stay, for now. There seemed to be burned remnants of what could have been gloves on the hands, but she paid them little mind. It WAS a bit odd, Maddie admitted. Wraiths don't need actual clothing as their form was incorporeal most of the time, and clothing was a construct of the wraiths mind when they did take physical form. So how would a phantom, obviously raised by the other predator, know how to use clothing properly? Perhaps it had not always been with the shadow creature? Maybe. But then, why would a wraith want to actually raise a phantom pup which hadn't been with it since hatching instead of just killing it? The two were natural enemies, much like a hawk and a mouse, although, said mouse could easily be compared to a crow or other small scavenger. Shaking her head, Maddie supposed it didn't matter now. They wouldn't let this one go. A wild phantom, found in the ghost zone was to important to simply release again.

With that in mind, Maddie stood, checking to see if the boy had stirred because of the movement (he hadn't) and ran back to the Specter Speeder. There, she located one of t he smaller live traps they'd brought along. It was simple in design, much like the others, but this one was only about 4x5x5. The phantom wouldn't be able to stand up in it and there wasn't much room to move, but for his predicament now not moving was the best thing for him. Maddie was going to make sure that when he woke up, he would not be able to cause more damage to himself.

It took a few minute to unfold and screw the trap into place, and in that time, it seemed Maddie couldn't keep her eyes off the boy. A testament to the resilience of nature, he was. Well, if what had killed off he phantoms in the past was a viruses or some new predator no one knew of, that was. And, the fact was, they didn't know. This fledgling, however, could help them solve that mystery! Tests on his dietary habits, instinctual urges, even mating preferences would tell them so much. Could this phantom be an offspring of a mate-group that hadn't been killed off by the wipeout, or undiscovered by any of the research teams sent out to find them? Maybe perhaps, much like the Tarpan or Prezwaltski's horse, it was a newer species with an older genetic code? Maddie didn't know, and that made her all the more enthusiastic. There was no way she'd be sleeping again tonight!

With the trap set up, she walked over to the little being, mindful of his injuries, and looped her arms under his, around the chest. Trying not to drag too much, Maddie laid the phantom male down inside the trap, and quietly as she could, closed and locked the door.

With nothing but left to be done but wake Jack and clear away the wreckage of the destroyed machine, Maddie drug the occupied cage to the side of the specter speeder, pulling out a tarp and draping it over the trap. She'd heard laying a cloth over cages with feral animals like cats and dogs in them helped calm them, and she had little doubt there would be a very NOT calm phantom within the trap come morning. That didn't really matter though, because come morning, Jack and Maddie would be leaving, taking the phantom with them whether it was calm or not, and unknowingly changing so many lives in the process.


End file.
